You May Not Actually Be Cool: Please Read This Before You Get a Chinese Tattoo

Oct 19, 2011 | 2 comments

This poor guy thought he was getting a very cool “OUTLAW”
tattoo but instead came away with “HIDING CRIMINAL”
which basically carries the meaning “RAT FINK”.
Not as cool.

I have never been cool.  I’ve spent nearly 4 decades just behind the trend curve and the closest I have come was that mullet just four years after mullets were hot (and they were hot).  I used to blame my mother who said no Nike’s in the fourth grade, no rat tail in the fifth grade, no parachute pants in the sixth grade, no red, pleather, Michael Jackson zipper coat in the seventh grade and no earring . . . ever.  She just didn’t see the value of cool.

Now I am thankful.  If it had not been for the absolute inability to be cool that she planted deep in the core of my very being I’m guessing I would have a tattoo by now.  That thought cross-referenced with the trend over the past decade and my connection to China would lead me to think that my tattoo would be (like all of the cool kids these days) a Chinese character . . . or the Fonz . . . or the Fonz with a tattoo of a Chinese character.  How cool would that be?

Here is the problem . . . Translation is a vicious beast.

Speaking Chinese is hard (go here and here and here to learn more about that) but translating is a whole new level of pain.  If speaking Chinese is a bear then translating it is a fire breathing T-Rex with laser beam eyes and a big tattoo that says “Bears taste good” (in Chinese).  The cardinal sin of translation is that the translator makes the mistake of thinking language is words.  Language is actually layer after layer of grammar and structure and rules and exceptions to rules and culture and history and emotion and . . . that list goes on for a while.  So when you ask, “what’s the Chinese word for ‘I love you baby cakes?” you might end up with something that actually means “Your child’s flap jacks are loving and generous to me.”

The “filth room” is the Janitors closet at the
hospital down the street from our home.

Expats in China get a lot of giggles out of poorly translated Chinese (go here for “The Onion Explodes the Mutton and Other Fine Chinese Dishes”) but the translation beast eats Western food too.  There are multiple thousands of very cool looking Chinese tattoos out there that would cause a Chinese crowd to laugh out loud (not with them . . . at them).

At least they’re not alone.


Here’s an excerpt from the NY Times on the subject:


“Marquis Daniels, of the Dallas Mavericks, thought he was getting his initials in Chinese characters but what his arm actually says is “healthy woman roof,” . . .  Shawn Marion of the Phoenix Suns was under the impression that his nickname, “the Matrix,” was tattooed on his leg, but the inscription translates as something like “demon bird moth balls.” . . . Britney Spears . . . reportedly got a tattoo she thought said “mysterious” but actually meant “strange.”


I also heard a rumor that one of the Spice Girls tried for a “Girl Power” tattoo and ended up with “Electric Woman”.  No idea if that’s true . . . but it’s funny. 


Just for fun I’ve taken up translating.  These are the love songs that I would have tattooed on my body by now . . . if I was cool.  I translated them into Chinese using iciba.com (a Chinese online translator) and then back into English using Google Translate


1. I’m everything I am, because you loved me (first dance at my wedding)  = “Because you believe me because you love me that I”
2. You are the wind beneath my wings = “You breeze in my arms under”
3. I got you babe = “The same car with the boys” (?)
4. Nothing compares to you = “You . . . unparalleled” (actually cooler)
5. You light up my life = “You light up my life” (about the same cool only it probably really means “you set me on fire”)


So pretty please . . . before you tarnish your body for life with a Chinese typo . . . send me your text and I’ll have it proofread by real live Chinese people.  If I can’t be cool, at least I can help you be.

Check out these sites for more translations gone horribly wrong:
Hanzismatter.blogspot.com
Engrish.com

The Day Doritos Came to China

Oct 14, 2011 |

There was much rejoicing and jubilation the day Doritos came to China.  I remember it vividly because my fingertips were stained orange for weeks.  I was deep in the trenches of my first battle with culture shock and longing, begging, aching for something . . . anything, remotely American.  Seeing those crispy, cheesy ultra-hydrogenated triangles smothered in powdered, cheddary goodness tripped my switch like a Pavlovian dog and I drooled puddles all over aisle three of the Changsha Wal-Mart.  The bags were half the size of the ones from home . . . so I had to buy ten of them.  The next day my stomach hurt . . . but I’m pretty sure I bought ten more. 
People like to talk about the pros and cons of the rapid fire changes that are reshaping China.  Are they good?  Bad?  Ugly?  Can an ancient civilization withstand the impact that comes with freakish economic growth?  Is Urbanization offering new hope to the impoverished countryside or creating uncontainable social disturbances?  Is Westernization breathing new life into a struggling system or slowly corroding a magnificent, ancient culture?  If you said yes (or no) (or maybe) (or how should I know?) (or I don’t give a whoop) to all of these, you are probably right.   
Flag Square
When we first moved to Qingdao I went on a walk, with my family through Flag Square.  Flag Square embodies the very heart of the new, globier China more than any place I’ve seen.  204 beautifully displayed national flags representing the 2008 Olympic gathering of the entire world in a nation that has barely been open for business with most of those nations for three decades.  From the square (which is actually a circle) you can see the enormous Olympic rings overlooking the harbor that hosted the sailing venue and the four-story torch is rarely not surrounded by picture snapping tourists.  On the right day you can even catch the inspirational Olympic anthems like One World One Dream and I Love Beijing blaring through the loud speakers although these days it’s more likely you’ll hear Taylor Swift or Randy Travis (seriously . . . Randy Travis . . . in China).   This one spot is a picture perfect emblem of China gone global.
I was pushing my baby in his stroller (pram, buggy etc.) with my 6 year old daughter and my wife when right in front of me two cars pulled up (where cars are not supposed to be mind you).  Car number one? A cherry red Porsche driven by a doe-eyed, teenage girl.  Number two?  Maserati.  Teenage boy.  There was nothing about this picture that was even remotely thinkable a generation ago in China.  They stopped for just a moment.  She looked back at him and gave a flirty little, “can’t catch me” giggle.  Then she drove away.  You could physically see the testosterone oozing out of the Maserati.  He was trying to play it cool but any man who had ever survived puberty could see exactly what was going on.

What happened next defines the paradox of globalization for me.  He stomped on the accelerator, spinning this gorgeous machine into a perfect, screaming circle.  The stench of burning rubber was thick and in a flash he was off like a hormone driven teenage Cheetah in pursuit of the gazelle in the cherry red Porsche.
I was furious.  He spun dangerously close to my 10 month old baby.  I threw up my arms in disgust and pointed to my son as he zoomed past.  I tried to think of something mean to say in Chinese but I didn’t get to that lesson yet so I just growled . . . like an angry lion whom as you know, eat Cheetahs for breakfast (it’s true, I think I saw it on the National Geographic Channel).  

My daughter sensed my frustration and tried to be the peacemaker.  “Dad.  I don’t think he made such a good choice, did he?” Still fuming I barked, “No honey, he sure didn’t.”  She came back with a reassuring, “Dad.  If I had that car I would never do that.”  

She got me.  

In the middle of my disgust and anger I was forced to admit that that was absolutely, 100% the coolest thing I had seen all day.  $120,000 (maybe double with import fees) worth of pure Italian perfection, driven solely by pubescent, Chinese machismo smokes its tires into a flawless donut (that I swear was on fire for just a moment), surrounded by the flags of countries who, just 30 years ago, were vehemently uninvited to even stand in the very spot that it was happening.  In the interest of an vulnerable, teachable moment I responded to my daughter, “That’s great honey.  I probably would do that . . . but I would make sure there were no babies around first.”
New China is both amazing and infuriating.   It’s exciting and maddening.  It’s thrilling and painful.  It is the best bits of Western culture that came over on the same boat as the worst bits and now live together with the best and worst bits of the East.  It’s a wonderfully challenging mix of “Are you kidding me?!” and “That was incredible!”  It’s jubilation and a stomach ache.  It’s Doritos.  

My Second and Last Blog About Diarrhea: The Movie

Aug 3, 2011 | 6 comments

Yeah so the very least of my writing aspirations is to become known as “the diarrhea blogger”

“Hey do you know Jerry Jones?”

     “The owner of the Dallas Cowboys? Yeah sure.”

“No, not the real Jerry Jones, the other one.”

     “There’s another one?”

“Yeah the guy who writes the blog about culture . . . “

     blank stare


“He talks about China (nothing) . . .  and faking Chinese  (zip) . . . and adoption  (nope) . . . and diarrhea”

     “OHHHH Yeah the diarrhea blogger!  He owns the Dallas Cowboys?!  I did not know that.”

Such fame is not even on my radar  . . . but this is too rich to pass up.  Following my last post (The Diarrhea Clinic and Why I Think it’s Funny) this video was shared with me further proving my point that while diarrhea may not be funny to every culture it is indeed funny to our culture no matter what culture speaks (or sings) of it.

Watch it and try not to laugh but don’t stop watching before the song.  You won’t regret it.

And I promise – no more diarrhea anytime soon.  At least on the blog.

The Diarrhea Clinic and Why I Think It’s Funny

Aug 2, 2011 | 4 comments

This clinic is a short walk from our home.  I laugh a
little every time I walk by (don’t judge me).  I find it ironic
that “diarrhea” is spelled correctly in a country where the
rest of English is not.  I only know because I have
spell check.

Know how to say “diarrhea” in Chinese?  Want to?  

Your answer to that question speaks volumes about you.  

Some of you are saying “Stink YEAH I do! Tell me tell me tell me!”  You’re the ones who have already skipped ahead in your mind to the people who are going to crack up because you can say a word that you can’t even spell in a language which you know zero other words.  You’re going to say, “yeah . . . I speak a little Chinese” and they’ll say, “yeah me too, ‘ching chang willy willy bing bang bong‘” and you’ll be like, “no, seriously I know some real Chinese like the kind they speak in China” and they’ll say “oh yeah? like what?”

And then you’ll say it.
And they’ll say “what’s that mean?”
And you’ll say “Diarrhea!” 

And you will laugh so hard your ears hurt.  You know who you are.

Then there are those of you who are saying, “that’s disgusting and I cannot even believe that you would squander my valuable time and so desecrate internet space with such a juvenile, repulsive proposition . . . no I most certainly do NOT wish to defile my brain cells with such blatant and utter tomfoolery.”

You are sophisticated, refined and fooling no one but yourself.  It’s time to take a look deep inside my friend.  NO ONE doesn’t want to know how to say “diarrhea” in Chinese.

How we handle things like flatulence and diarrhea speak volumes about our culture (if you just made a joke in your mind you’re proving my point).  Why are natural, normal, universally experienced bodily functions just plain funny? Is it inherent or inherited? Nature or nurture? Is it from repeated exposure to cultural cues or does it run in the jeans? (sorry).

I was recently standing in the vegetable market near our home.  Just me, Lotus (our friend who runs the shop) and one older woman in a tiny little shack filled with fruit and veggies.  Lotus knew that I had been sick and asked me what my afflictions were (she regularly does this because she likes to look after the foreigners who know nothing about which foods treat which ailments).  I told her I had a headache and then in a quiet, embarrassed tone I waved my hand over my stomach, squinted and grunted as if to say . . . “eehhhh you know . . .”  She looked confused for a single moment and then the light went on.  “Ohhh” her eyes opened wide with understanding, “you have diarrhea?”  She spoke in Chinese but I know that word so I shook my head to confirm.

Then it began.

She wasn’t quite sure which pickled vegetable or spiced root to recommend so she shouted to the old woman.  “Hey, he has diarrhea, what should I give him?”  And the old lady said, “Ahhh DIARRHEA . . . Hmmm.”  While she was thinking it over another person entered the shack who was obviously a friend.  ” Oh you would know . . . the foreigner has diarrhea, what do you eat for that?”  The new lady was baffled and shouted out the door, “Hey honey!  There’s a foreigner in here who has diarrhea! do you remember what’s good for that?”  One by one they piled in and I swear (this is how I remember it) in less than three minutes more than 400 of my Chinese neighbors were crammed in a building the size of two Buicks to openly discuss my loose bowels.  I could only understand half of the conversation but the part I caught loud and clear was diarrhea, diarrhea, the foreigner has diarrhea.

And no one . . . not a single person . . . laughed . . . but I was biting my lip because as much as I wanted to crawl under a rock and pretend that I did not, in fact, know the Chinese word for diarrhea . . . I wanted to laugh even more.

Volumes.

“La duzi” (Try pronouncing it “Lah doodzuh”).  That’s how you say “diarrhea” in Chinese.  Enjoy that.

author’s sidenote:  when I wrote “does it run in the jeans?” I laughed so hard my ears hurt.


A couple of videos – just to prove my point.  Millions of people have watched these (including you?).  And they have all laughed.

Yao Ming What?! Say it Isn’t So

Jul 9, 2011 | 1 comment

Yao Ming has informed the NBA and the Houston Rockets that he will retire however he has evidently not informed China.  According to reports from Chinese news agencies the rumors of his retirement are not verified and not true.  In other words . . . It isn’t so.

“We have not got any news about Yao’s retirement . . . we were surprised by the news spreading around here today.”
        -Talung Lin, China’s market manager for the Rockets


Yao is the poster child for globalization.  From the American side he’s that big Chinese guy who plays in the NBA and the only Chinese name that most people can pronounce (Jacky Chan and Bruce Lee don’t count).  From China, however, he is infinitely more iconic.  He represents a nation that has moved from a being blip on the global radar to being absolutely impossible to ignore.  His story is, hands down, the most public picture of the polar opposite ideologies (Communism and Capitalism) that are co-existing quite well (depending on who you ask) in China.   His career has exploded the NBA brand throughout Asia and has shown the West that Chinese people don’t just play ping pong (although they are quite good at that too).  What began as a point of national pride 8 seasons ago has blossomed into millions of young Chinese ballers (and wannabe’s) who know more about team and player stats than Marv Albert.  All perspectives considered it makes sense that breaking news in Houston is slower to break in Beijing.  


His retirement will have a huge impact on China . . . when it happens . . . someday . . . in the future.


Yao has served to bridge the cultural gap between East and West and while the implications are impossible to fathom and the impact would take decades to fully explore, it seems that the gap is still just a bit broader than 2.26 meters.  Sorry . . . 7 feet 6 inches.  Case in point.    


Call home Yao.  Your mother is worried.

I know I’ve posted this before (see “I Love This Gaem”)
but it bears repeating.  Houston Rockets is the only
Jersey at the Chinese”wholesale market”
(in our city) that is not misspelled.
Now that’s a legacy!

First World Problems

Jul 6, 2011 | 4 comments

I think my dad went to school with Bill Cosby’s dad.  He once showed me the road that he walked to school as a boy (after he milked the cows, slopped the hogs and butchered the chickens).  I can’t explain it but it really was uphill . . . wait for it . . . both ways.  Freaky.  I remember having a discussion when I was a teenager, wondering what we would have to complain about when we got older . . .

“When I was a kid we rode the bus to school . . . uphill . . . sometimes.  We had to wear red leather jackets with dozens of zippers . . . that went nowhere! We had to play Atari 2600 and wear pants made from parachutes . . . AND WE LIKED IT.”

Yeah . . . times were tough back then.  Thankfully though neither my father’s generation nor mine had to suffer through the realities of the contemporary Western (first world) teen.

This video says it all